Against Predictions
by secretfanficlover
Summary: Professor Sybill Trelawney is often overlooked as crazy or eccentric, but she knows more than she lets on, and does more than they know.


**Nothing Belongs to me...**

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Word Count: 1001

Title: Against Predictions

Note: Potential AU

Warnings: death, blood, gore

Beta: whitetiger91, White Eyebrow

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Hogwarts

Yearly:

Prompt 914 [Trait] Eccentric

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The House Cup:

House: Gryffindor

Class: Charms

Category: Drabble

Prompt: [Song Prompt] You're Welcome from Moana (aka Vaiana)

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I keep telling them these things will happen, but they think I'm crazy. Well, they're welcome for me saving Harry Potter's life again and again. I know the future is a fuzzy business, and I don't always get it right. Then again, they need to realise how hard it is to predict something that can always be changed; it's sort of like navigating a lifeboat in a maelstrom.

I'm sitting in my plum-purple robes in front of my crystal ball, trying to see an image through the fog that surrounds it. I know about the upcoming catastrophe, and Albus Dumbledore wants me to keep an eye on things.

"Sometimes I just want to disappear," I mutter to myself.

He knows it doesn't work that way, yet he still makes me try. Reading leaves and making predictions isn't as easy as it seems. It appears that there is nothing the man isn't willing to sacrifice, including myself.

"Do you see anything else?" Dumbledore asks me.

It's the dead of night, and the entire castle is asleep—except for us, it seems.

"Yes, Headmaster," I reply reluctantly; it's painful to talk about. I hate that my predictions are always of horror and gloom.

"Will it be brutal?" he asks; it's like he insists I give him all I can.

"Oh yes, there will be blood," I admit with reluctance. I suffer as I tell Dumbledore all I can about the war that is on its way.

"Keep the boy safe. He needs to find the Horcruxes; it's the only chance we have," I say.

Dumbledore nods in agreement.

I didn't tell him that the boy won't die, if he chooses not to; I don't feel the need to. Of course, the stone will save him, and I'm not scared for his safety at all; the rest of the school will be covered in death and mayhem, but Potter I can save.

"Thank you, Sybil," Dumbledore says, leaving me alone in my room with my plum-purple robes and my thoughts.

"You're welcome, Headmaster," I say to his retreating back with a hint of sarcasm.

Ever since the first time I saw the Grimm, I knew the boy's future would be filled with sorrow or death, and every narrow escape he'd made so far baffled me. But somehow, the boy is just fated to live.

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I made sure to hide the stone inside the Snitch that Dumbledore left him; in his last hours, the headmaster had no sense to try and save anyone else. The headmaster's death, which of course didn't happen as foretold, shook the foundations of Hogwarts to the core.

I was horrified when I found out that Severus Snape had been the one to kill him, not the curse he contracted during the time he was out looking for the Horcruxes. The condition had been contained to one of his arms, and I knew he could have survived it. It seemed like there was some method to this; he did prevent the Malfoy boy from becoming a criminal.

I also managed to send the trio to find the rest of the Horcruxes, and they would never know my influence. The gifts from Dumbledore were trinkets, but the implication was there that they knew they needed to make sure they took Voldemort down. I hated the name; even in my thoughts, the evil of the man made me shudder. I also managed to convince the new headmaster to send his Patronus to guide the children to the sword of Gryffindor; they needed it to destroy the Horcrux, and as morally grey as Severus Snape was, he was ultimately on the light side of the war, so he'd relented.

I made sure that I watched and waited until he came back into the school, and helped protect him. Minerva McGonagall was a strange ally I never believed I would have. Eventually, she came around to my way of thinking; she knew that after all the predictions I made that had come true, I wasn't the airhead everyone believed me to be.

I helped Harry Potter, because somehow he was the boy that kept surviving it all. He was the one I could save; many would die, but he would live, and that was the one thing my predictions told me. The thing that made me carry on. I hated every negative prediction; sometimes it made me hate myself for all the bad news I had to give. But sometimes, when I saw Harry Potter, just sometimes there was something more than death, more than loss.

One day the golden trio would move on from the war, and life would continue again; they would have their children, and their lives. Although, the thought of him never knowing left me bitter. I was so much more than what everyone thought I was.

But no thank you required, I was only doing my job. I'm a teacher; protecting students is what I do, I suppose. So, you're welcome, Harry Potter, you're welcome for all I did without your knowledge, the amount of times I saved your life, and the lives of those that have yet to come in the future. In a world where there was no war, and the students of Hogwarts would still doubt me and what I knew I could do.

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I watch myself in my crystal ball, sitting in my room surrounded by objects and gadgets, and I see the final war. I watch as Harry Potter catches the Elder wand with a look of triumph on his face when it recoils from the curse; scars cover his face and his hair is matted with blood, but we've won.

I see myself as well, the remnants of my crystal ball in hand, having used it to bash in the heads of some of the Death Eaters. I see the looks of relief among the cheering crowds; a smile of satisfaction etches across my face as I inwardly mutter, "You're welcome, Harry Potter, you're welcome…"


End file.
